That morning, everything was in place for absolutely nothing to happen. Just like the day before. And the hundred before that.

  One item on the agenda: carry a few bags, give a goodbye kiss. End of program.

  "Mom! The taxi’s here!"

  "Wave him down."

  The small downtown apartment was steeped in soft light, filtered through curtains still drawn. Outside, cars purred in a steady stream, punctuated by horns and slamming doors.

  Inside, a different mood reigned: joyful chaos, messy and lived-in. Travel bags gaped open on the floor, sneakers were abandoned in a corner, and a still-damp towel hung over a chair. On the table, beauty products had gathered into a perfumed jumble.

  By the door, a scruffy-looking young man struggled to keep a pile of suitcases from toppling. Two-day stubble, tousled chestnut hair, an oversized sweatshirt: he squinted through half-lidded eyes and yawned hard enough to dislocate his jaw.

  "Merlin, you really think you can carry all that?"

  He stifled another yawn, raised an eyebrow at his mom, and mumbled,

  "No problem. You guys ready?"

  "Yep. Let’s go down."

  Merlin straightened up slowly, still half-asleep. He could barely see the stairs, but his legs remembered the way.

  Behind him, his mother hurried down in heels that clacked against the steps. Slightly winded, she called out,

  "I stuck a meal plan for each day on the fridge. And froze a few dishes too."

  "I know, Mom. You told me ten minutes ago."

  They reached the porch. The morning air, still moist from the night, slipped under their clothes. It was brisk, sharp, and carried the scent of a waking city.

  In front of them stood a pair of massive wooden doors, framed in black iron. Beyond them, the street roared, thick with noise and exhaust. A taxi waited on the other side.

  "I also wrote down the hotel number, just in case..."

  "There won’t be any problem, Mom. It’s not your first trip."

  She sighed.

  "You better not live off just pasta and cereal while I’m gone."

  Merlin gave a small smile, then turned to his sister.

  "Later," she muttered, then dashed to the car.

  Still juggling the bags, Merlin hesitated at the threshold to the street.

  "Put that down, I’ll do it," his mom offered immediately.

  "No. I got it."

  He stepped outside, and a gust of cold air bit into his skin, sending a shiver up his spine. His jaw clenched.

  He kept his gaze low, avoiding the sky and the clamor of the already-bustling street. He tried to tune out the horns, the rushing cars, the people in a hurry. When a small group brushed past him, another shiver ran up his back.

  Come on. Be brave. Your precious blanket’s waiting upstairs.

  That thought gave him just enough momentum. As soon as the luggage was packed into the trunk, the taxi pulled away.

  It was the start of a long stretch of solitude.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  His mom met his eyes, hugged him tight one last time, kissed his cheek, and tapped his shoulder.

  "Go on, sweetheart. Head back in."

  His sister, behind the tinted window, didn’t even glance back. Merlin shrugged and shut the door without a word.

  The taxi drove off, swallowed by the noise of the morning. As soon as it turned the corner, Merlin rushed back under the porch. He closed the heavy door behind him, and instantly, the city sounds muffled. He let out a sigh.

  He stretched and yawned. The all-nighter was catching up to him, and fast.

  Unhurried, he made his way toward the stairs. Each step was an effort. He climbed slowly, legs stiff, eyes fixed on the landing, which seemed miles away.

  Just a few more steps, close the door...

  But—

  "Oh! Mr. Curkis! How are you? Have your mother and sister already left?"

  Charlotte Schwarzenegger was coming down the stairs, unhurried. She wore tailored beige pants and a fitted jacket over a light blouse, looking effortlessly elegant. But skull bracelets clinked at her wrists, and several piercings caught the light in her ears. Her hazel eyes, both bright and deep, studied Merlin with quiet curiosity.

  He froze at his door, hand clenched around the knob.

  "Morning, Charlotte… Yeah, all good. They just left. Like, just now."

  She kept descending at a calm pace. One floor down, she glanced at his clenched fist.

  "Well. I wish you a lovely day, Mr. Curkis."

  "You too," he blurted out, too quickly.

  He swung the door open and shut it at once. Inside, he leaned against the wood, eyes closed.

  What a disaster. He’d acted like a total idiot again.

  Morning light was trickling through the apartment. A breeze slipped in through the open window.

  His phone buzzed. A message from his mom:

  Everything okay?

  He replied instantly:

  Yeah, yeah. Safe trip, Mom. Let me know when you’re on the plane.

  OK.

  Merlin smiled. He already knew he’d never get that message—his mom would forget her phone existed within minutes. They were alike in that.

  He plugged in his phone, then hurried to close the shutters, lowering them three-quarters down. The room darkened into a cozy twilight.

  A beep rang out, but not from his phone this time. It was Discord, on his computer.

  Messages flooded the screen.

  Hey! Still awake?

  You said you were going to bed!

  You free?

  I don’t feel like sleeping. Wanna try the boss again?

  Answer me!!!

  He replied plainly:

  Not now. I’m wiped. Maybe tonight.

  He had a busy day planned: a good nap, some cleaning, another nap, and most of all, a long reading session. If he finished the last volume of the saga he’d been devouring for a month, maybe—just maybe—he’d consider gaming again.

  He shut off the screen, ignoring the stream of pings that followed. His reply clearly hadn’t gone over well.

  Merlin dropped onto the couch. He lay across it, arm tucked under his head, and sank into the cushions. The quiet of the apartment wrapped around him. He’d be alone for the next six months. A little bittersweet. But he was used to it.

  His gaze swept over the mess: crumpled clothes, open books, empty lotion bottles on the rug, a tangle of cables.

  He sighed. Cleaning would take time. A lot of time. But that was for later.

  He closed his eyes. Sleep settled over him like a weight, thick and sticky.

  Then he heard it. A soft, distant sound. Gentle, almost soothing.

  Waves? Wind through trees?

  He listened harder. It was coming from the far side of the apartment.

  His sister must’ve left her TV on.

  Then another sound joined in.

  Animal cries?

  Merlin groaned, sat up with effort. Still yawning, he scratched his head, then made his way through the clutter. Stepped over a gym bag, dodged a teetering stack of magazines, nudged a box aside with his foot.

  When he reached her room, he froze.

  The doorframe was gone.

  In its place hovered a glowing circle, edged in pale mist. On the other side stretched a wild, expansive landscape. Dense treetops, like a sea of green. Jagged cliffs cut through the forest, pocked with hollows or split by vines. Leaves rippled in the breeze. Birds flew past, vanishing into the canopy.

  "What the hell is that?"

  Instinctively, Merlin looked over his shoulder. The hallway was still perfectly normal. He turned back.

  Far below, two figures stood out sharply. One stood over a body sprawled in a pool of blood.

  A murder?

  Merlin squinted. The body was grotesquely mutilated, missing an arm and a leg. Stranger still, two long, curved horns jutted from its forehead.

  The standing figure seemed unreal. A slim young man, almost fragile, yet radiating presence. He wore a simple tunic, as if from another era, woven from suspended light or living ash, depending on the angle.

  His hair was pitch dark, streaked with glowing threads like lightning veins or molten lava. His face was smooth, calm, far too young to carry such gravity. And his eyes, golden and pupilless, shifted constantly, searching for a form they couldn’t seem to find.

  The air around him thrummed. Dust hung still. Even the rocks seemed to hold their breath. From where Merlin stood, it looked like the world was straining.

  The boy looked up. Met his eyes. Then, very slowly, beckoned him forward.

  Merlin’s throat tightened. A wave of vertigo hit him, followed by nausea. He staggered back and checked behind him again, but everything still looked normal.

  But when he turned back, something had changed.

  The figure was gone. The body was whole again, arm and leg intact. No blood. Just dry, stony ground.

  Like… magic?

  "No… No way this is—"

  He stepped closer for a better look.

  One step too many.

  An invisible force yanked him forward. He didn’t even have time to scream.

  Darkness swallowed him whole.